


Roughhousing

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Lingerie, M/M, Pornstars, Rimming, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 21:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: Sehun's worst nightmare is coming true: he has to film a video with the biggest asshole he's ever met in his life, Kim Jongin.





	Roughhousing

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be plotless, but... welp. 
> 
> Anyway, the vague backstory is: the company is about 5 years old, and Sehun has practically been there since the beginning. Jongin joined ~2 years after he did.

“Absolutely not.”

Jongdae sighs heavily, already knowing – and dreading – how this conversation is going to go. He twiddles his thumbs, clicks his pen a few times, and sighs again.

“Look, if you accept, you’d be getting a huge pay-out. They’re estimating that the video will garner about five hundred thousand views in –”

“I don’t care,” Sehun interjects, slapping a firm palm onto the surface of his table. He fixes Jongdae with a _look_ as he gets up and collects the plates, and he keeps giving Jongdae that _look_ even as he heads into the kitchen to dump them into the sink. “I’m not doing it. End of discussion.”

Jongdae could cry. It’s not easy being Oh Sehun’s manager-slash-guardian-slash-confidante. It’s a ridiculous workload, what with all the love calls he receives and the crazy boatload of messages he gets from his fans. All that, coupled with the pressure coming from the company, Jongdae could _really_ cry. If it weren’t because of Sehun himself, he’d have packed up and hightailed it out of the industry ages ago. He’s one of Jongdae’s favourite clients, reasonable and kind, and Jongdae doesn’t have the heart to leave him in the care of a shitty manager.

“Sehun, please. You’ve had a lot of autonomy in the business, always able to pick who you want to film with – this is something the viewers want. It’s something your fans want, and don’t you think you owe them this? Besides, it’s just one video.”

He can’t hear or see Sehun, but he can practically feel Sehun’s disgruntled sigh on his shoulder.

“I hate it when you play that card,” Sehun complains, sticking his head out from the kitchen. “That’s not fair. You know I don’t like him one bit!”

“One video. One video and I’ll tell them no more, no matter how much they’re offering to pay.”

Sehun plonks down into his seat and huffs. “Fine. But you tell them that we’re doing this my way.”

Well. It’s hard to fight back a wince, so Jongdae doesn’t. Sehun, of course, doesn’t miss it.

“Why do you look like that?”

Nervous, Jongdae thumbs at the papers waiting in front of him. “They, ah, already have a scene planned and a script in progress. After all, the viewers want to see, ah, particular things from the both of you.”

Sehun digs his thumbs into his eyes and resigns himself to what will probably be his most hated video of his porn career.

 

 

 

  
When he walks into the meeting room and glimpses the people seated around the oblong table, Sehun feels his face pull into a grimace. Kim Jongin is seated at one end, dressed in simple jeans and a soft cotton tee. It’s quite infuriating, how he manages to look that good in such plain clothing. But it’s apparent that Jongin feels the same way about him, Sehun muses, at least judging by the scrutinizing look he receives when he settles into his seat.

Look, Sehun is by no means an arrogant person – he knows he has the whole package, from the shape of his eyes all the way down to the flex of his toes, but he doesn’t care about flaunting it. When it comes to sex, he likes having layers peeled off his body, like he’s a gift to be unwrapped. Foreplay is everything to him, and he relishes in watching his lovers slowly unravel beneath his touches until they’re begging for more.

Jongin, on the other hand, embraces his sex appeal. He is the roaring fire to Sehun’s embers, the instant breathtaker to Sehun’s gradual devastation. He flaunts what he’s got – most of the time when Sehun runs into him in the studio, the man’s shirtless and clad in threadbare sweats that do nothing to hide his goods. In his films, Jongin prefers to dive right into it, revving the other party up from 0 to 60 until they’re ripping clothes off bodies and into each other.

They’re two pieces belonging to two entirely different puzzles, and it’s really no wonder that they do not mesh.

“Good afternoon,” Sehun says pleasantly, nodding to everyone around the table. The smile slides right off his face when he locks eyes with Jongin. “You.”

“You,” Jongin returns with a sneer.

Junmyeon, one of the directors of the company, clears his throat and brings his hands together.

“Alright, so we’re here to discuss your upcoming video and what we’d like to see. We’ve taken your… relationship into account and we have tentatively decided on the concept of the two of you being ex-lovers.”

Sehun chokes on his spit. “ _Lovers_?!”

“Ex-lovers,” Jongdae corrects him under his breath.

“I thought it would just be a quick fuck,” Jongin mutters, running a hand through those annoyingly luscious locks.

“That’s the only thing you’re good at anyway, isn’t it?” Sehun can’t help but snap, entirely aware of the placating hand that Jongdae holds out at the other porn star.

“How would you know? Do you watch my videos?” Jongin returns, already halfway out of his seat. “That gets you off?”

Sehun barks out a laugh. “Watching two turtles go at it would get me off faster than watching one of your videos.”

Jongin’s manager, Chanyeol, claps a large hand onto Jongin's shoulder and forces him back down into his seat. There’s a horribly tense silence in the room when Jongin finally does settle down, nails digging grooves into the flesh of his palms. Sehun’s glare can melt steel, and it takes Junmyeon a great amount of false cheer to usher a fraction of the tension away.

“Right! Well, we’d like to include some of what the both of you are known for – do you have anything you’re not willing to do?”

“For the love of god,” Kyungsoo interrupts. The poor sound engineer looks like he’s about to run himself into the wall, “Please don’t say ‘this video’.”

With a harrumph, Sehun sinks into his chair and shrugs. “Whatever.”

 

 

 

  
Somehow, Sehun isn’t too surprised when he walks onto set a week later and comes face to face with the inside of an apartment. He turns to Jongdae, a wonderfully shaped eyebrow crooked.

“Really? A house party? What, does he get jealous even though we’re no longer together?”

Jongdae lifts a shoulder. “Well, yeah, actually. That’s the gist of it.” He digs into his armful of files and pulls out a thin sheaf of papers.

“What’s this?”

“Script,” Jongdae says, handing it over. Sehun skims through it, glad to see that it isn’t complicated whatsoever. Scripts are never set in concrete, and the actors are usually free to change it as they go. As long as they stick to the general storyline, the directors don’t nitpick. After all, it _is_ porn instead of a feature film.

“Filming starts in about half an hour,” Jongdae says. “Your dressing room is already set up and ready, so you can go change or rehearse or whatever – just don’t be late. Or bail.”

Rolling his eyes, Sehun waves goodbye to him and traipses down the long hallway. The company’s got a couple of dozen actors on their roster, and this entire hallway is dedicated to their dressing rooms. Several of the newbies are forced to share, but Sehun’s practically brought the company up to where it is now single-handedly, so he gets to have an entire room, complete with an en-suite, to himself. Blessedly, Jongin’s dressing room is right at the other end of the hall, far enough for Sehun to pretend that he doesn’t exist.

He takes a lightning fast shower, making sure to clean himself thoroughly down south. Clad in nothing but a towel and standing in front of a rack of clothes, Sehun hems and haws for a full five minutes before finally deciding on what to wear. If he doesn’t make Jongin’s jaw drop, he’s not Oh Sehun.

Letting the towel fall to the ground, he rolls thin stockings up his legs, enjoying the smoothness of the nylon against his skin. Then, he selects a matching pair of boyshorts, black with just a hint of lace around the edges, and slips into that. It’s a slutty party, isn’t it? Might as well go in his underwear. He finishes the look with an oversized dress shirt, long enough to skim the backs of his thighs where it meets the curve of his ass.

By the time he’s done with hair and makeup, he’s got five minutes left on the clock. He spends that sitting cross-legged on his loveseat, staring down at the script resting on his lap until his eyes go dry. Then, with a heavy heart and an equally heavy sigh, he tosses the script onto a table and exits the room.

Jongin is already on set, and Sehun is appalled when he catches himself trail an appreciative gaze down the man’s muscled back, barely covered in that ridiculously thin shirt. And so what if he has a great ass? His own is much better.

There are a bunch of extras already on the set, and Sehun spots Baekhyun putting up the finishing touches, a couple of liquor bottles in his hands.

“Alright,” Junmyeon says when he notices Sehun’s presence. “We’re ready to go in three. You guys ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Sehun replies dryly, shooting Jongin a dark look. He gets a derisive curl of plump lips in return. Ugh, he looks like a fucking fish.

 

 

 

  
Guy’s a decent kisser, Sehun thinks, letting the extra guide his head a little to the right. It’s probably the best moment of the guy's short life thus far, if the growing bulge in his pants is anything to go by. It’s not everyday one gets to make out with one of the industry’s best stars, so Sehun completely forgives him. Sehun is just about to really lose himself in the kiss when a hand curls around his bicep and yanks.

“What the f –”

“What do you think you’re doing,” Jongin hisses, the anger as bright as day in those eyes. For just a moment, Sehun can’t tell if he’s acting. Then he’s pulled right off the couch and he stumbles into Jongin’s personal space, the scent of sandalwood and clean musk filling his nostrils.

“None of your business.” His breath is coming out of him in puffs, and Sehun feels unusually flushed considering that no clothes have been taken off yet. “We’re no longer together, are we?”

When Jongin’s jaw tenses, Sehun’s pretty sure that whatever they’ve suddenly delved into is no longer an act. Sure enough, the next thing Jongin says is completely off-script: “Everyone else get the _fuck_ out.”

Behind the cameras, Junmyeon steeples his fingers and leans in, curious to see where this could possibly go. Fuck the script, it was all a ruse to get something raw and heavy anyway. Did anyone really expect either of them to follow it when they’re _this_ close to launching themselves at each other 24/7?

Confused extras scramble to get off the set, someone knocking over a bottle of cheap vodka in the process. Off camera, Baekhyun sighs at the mess and scrubs at his face.

“This is my apartment,” Sehun breathes, grabbing a fistful of Jongin’s shirt and jostling him. “Who the hell do you think you are, chasing my guests out like that?”

The glare he gets burns right down to his core, ripping up a wave of goosebumps that runs down the length of his arms.

“You’re _mine_ , do you understand me?”

“Bullshit, we’re not –”

Jongin cuts him off by crushing their mouths together, and Sehun is suddenly so incensed by the sheer nerve of him that he bites down, hard.

“Fuck,” Jongin yells, taking a step back and pressing the back of his hand to the shallow split in his lip. It comes away bloodied. “You bit me?!”

“I don’t appreciate being cut off like that,” Sehun snarls, shoving Jongin back against a flimsy wall. It wobbles under the pressure but thankfully stays intact. “This is exactly why I broke up with you, you insufferable asshole.”

Jongin’s jaw hangs open, and Sehun wants to rejoice at the obvious outrage that the other man is experiencing at the words _I broke up with you._

This time, Sehun is the one who surges in to claim Jongin’s mouth, tongue sliding over the wound and swiping the metallic tang of blood onto his taste buds. He tightens fingers into Jongin’s hair until he hears a muffled grunt of pain released into his mouth, then lets go and curls a hand around Jongin’s neck.

By the gods, Sehun doesn’t think he’s ever been part of such an aggressive kiss in his life. The grip that Jongin has on his waist is bordering on bruising, a perfect match to the pressure against his lips. When they break apart for air, a glance at Jongin’s kiss-bruised lips, the edges smearing out into a healthy pink, tells Sehun that his probably look just as bad.

Jongdae looks around the set – everyone seems to be completely entranced by the scene. He can’t blame them; Sehun and Jongin are clearly electrifying together, although perhaps not in the safest way.

“I don’t understand what it is you want from me,” Sehun mutters irritatedly, pawing at the shirt clinging to every ridge and dip of Jongin’s god-sculpted chest. Jongin makes no effort to help him get rid of it, so Sehun snaps and rips it off his frame with a low growl. Scraps of thin cotton float down to the floor just as scratch marks begin to rise on Jongin’s skin.

“I don’t either,” Jongin returns. His gaze sweeps over Sehun’s face, incomprehensible, but Sehun doesn’t have the chance to question it before teeth seal over the curve of his neck and delicious suction is applied.

He lets out a stifled moan, dragging the blunt of his nails down the broad expanse of Jongin’s back until they hit the rigidness of the jeans’ waistband. Jongin’s unforgiving, leaving a large collection of love bites all over the creamy skin of Sehun’s neck – the flesh is already tender to the touch, and Sehun groans internally at the amount of foundation he’ll have to use to cover them up.

But it’s fucking nice. Sehun tilts his head to give Jongin better access and Jongin makes full use of the consent. It’s not romantic – far from it, in fact. It’s animalistic, the way Jongin wants to mark him up, the way Sehun does the same in return. It’s raw, the way Jongin spins them around and pins Sehun’s wrists above his head, the way Sehun shoves a thigh between Jongin’s and pushes. It’s certainly passionate, the way they meet each other halfway, teeth catching on lips and insistent tongues trying to lay claim to the other.

“Let me go,” Sehun breathes against Jongin’s mouth, back arching just enough to feel the man’s body heat even through the fabric of his shirt.

“No,” is the simple reply. A hot hand disappears up underneath the panels of Sehun’s shirt, rucking up the fabric until it bunches up around his armpits. He nips at Sehun’s lips, hard and brutal, and Sehun can’t help but part them to let him back in.

“Why? It’s not hard, is it? You’ve done it once before, anyway.” Sehun has no idea what the fuck his mouth is spitting out, but it fits the scenario, so Junmyeon will just have to deal with it.

“Shut up,” Jongin grunts, one hand still firmly securing Sehun’s wrists to the wall as the other runs down his chest. Dazedly, Sehun wonders if Jongin can feel the uncoordinated pattering of his heart against his ribcage. Then suddenly, he’s not wondering anything at all, too caught up in the sudden surge of pleasure when a thumb flicks over his nipple.

He thinks he hears Jongin’s breath hitch, but he can’t be sure, not when the moan that tumbles out of his mouth drowns out everything else. Jongin’s plucking at his nipple now, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingertips until it’s sore, red, and sending sparks pooling in Sehun’s gut.

Blessedly, Jongin lets go of his wrists, and Sehun takes the opportunity to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. That stupidly sinful mouth drops another heated kiss on Sehun’s before it travels further south and closes over the other nipple, the tip of Jongin’s tongue curling around the nub and flicking at such a mind boggling speed that Sehun finds himself clutching at Jongin’s head, speechless.

“Pretty sure no one can play you like I can,” Jongin whispers, just loud enough for the mics to pick up. “Am I right?”

“Fuck you.”

Jongin laughs, breath cool against the wetness of his nipple, and Sehun lets out a broken moan.

“Yeah, I thought so.” There’s a muted thud as Jongin sinks down to his knees, mouthing down a flat stomach until he’s face-to-face with the wet spot slowly growing in size over the bulge in Sehun’s underwear.

His eyes flicker up to Sehun’s face before he leans in, agonizingly slowly, to seal his lips around the head of Sehun’s cock. It’s impossible not to buck into that heat, but Jongin presses down on Sehun’s hips with his hands, leaving him to suffer through pleasure that just manages to take off the edge.

“Fucking get on with it,” Sehun grits, tugging on Jongin’s hair with a little too much force. So Jongin bites down on the inside of his thigh in retaliation, smirking against supple skin when Sehun yelps in pain.

Arousal and irritation is not a good combination. Sehun hauls Jongin up to his feet and almost throws him onto the couch, where he makes quick work of the button and zipper of Jongin’s jeans. He gets rid of his own underwear, not missing the brief look of hunger that flashes across Jongin’s face when he takes in the sight of Sehun in all his naked glory.

“You’re going to lie there,” Sehun snaps, slinging a leg over Jongin’s torso and shuffling further up. “And you’re going to _let_ me take pleasure from you. If not, I swear to god –”

Jongin grabs handfuls of Sehun’s ass and spreads the cheeks apart, wide enough for him to drag the flat of his tongue up between them and around the smooth, tight furl of his hole. Thighs shudder, hips jerk, and Jongin tightens his hold on Sehun and goes right the fuck to town.

 

 

 

  
“Holy shit,” Chanyeol whispers, turning around to stare at Jongdae. “I knew they were good, but this is…”

“A whole new level,” Jongdae agrees, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Part of him wants to leave, but the other part of him really wants to stay and watch the whole damn thing.

Junmyeon is so bloody pleased – the sales figure for this video is really going to smash right through the roof.

 

 

 

  
That tongue is exquisite, Sehun thinks, his mouth hanging open uselessly as Jongin keeps up with the licking and sucking. His cock is drooling all over his navel, balls pulled high and tight, and if Jongin keeps this up, he could really come just from that tongue in his ass.

Jongin seems like he’s having the time of his life, thumbs tucked under the mounds of flesh to keep them apart as he eats Sehun out like a bee drawn to honey. The cry he pulls out of the man when he pushes the tip of his tongue inside his hole is music to his ears, so he does it again and again until –

“Fuck, Jongin, I’m gonna –”

Nope.

Jongin pulls away just enough to admire his handiwork. Slick, dusky, and clenching, Sehun’s hole is practically crying out for his return. Instead, he slaps an asscheek, watches it jiggle, and shoves Sehun off of him.

Stunned, Sehun lands on his front, a leg tucked underneath his stomach with his ass still in the air. The sheer pleasure on his face gives way to murderous intent – he was just about to come, goddamnit! Sehun is just about to clamour off the couch to _kill_ the man when a hand presses down between his scapulas.

Another hand runs down the side of his stocking-clad thigh, curving around and running back up to his hole. Sehun jolts and almost rocks back onto the finger pressing against his entrance, but his ego stops him from doing so.

“Want me back here?”

“I hate you,” Sehun grumbles, the words muffled by the couch cushions.

He’s enveloped when Jongin suddenly drapes himself over his back, mouth right by his ear.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Jongin murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear but Sehun himself, “but you’re also so fucking _annoying_.”

Then he pulls away and takes his hands off of Sehun’s body. There’s the sound of a drawer being opened, and Sehun swallows down the anticipation bubbling up inside him like he’s a fucking bottle of champagne that Jongin’s shaking.

“Think you’re loose enough for me?”

Sehun nudges Jongin back down onto the couch, knees settling down on either side of the man’s thighs. “Fuck you, it’s not like you’re hung.”

The indignation on Jongin’s face almost makes Sehun break into a laugh and consequently out of character, but he manages to hold it in. Grabbing the bottle of lube out of Jongin’s hands, Sehun slicks a couple of fingers up and presses the both of them inside himself – okay fine, he’ll admit that Jongin’s done a decent job of loosening him up with just his tongue.

“I hate you,” Sehun repeats, making quick work of the condom.

“Likewise,” Jongin hisses. But his eyes, narrowed in ire just seconds ago, widen in wonderment as Sehun sinks down on his cock, taking him in inch by inch.

A hand flies up to grip Sehun’s hip, another coming to rest by the edge of the stocking, high up on a tense thigh. Sehun stares back at him, equally blown away, and tentatively rocks down on Jongin’s cock.

“Oh my god.”

Sehun rests his trembling palms against Jongin’s chest, gaze pulled away from Jongin’s by a stray bead of sweat rolling down the side of his neck and into the hollow of his clavicle. He begins to move, hips rocking and grinding deep onto the girth of Jongin inside him.

It’s indisputable, Sehun’s reputation in the industry when it comes to riding a dick. That amazing flexibility does wonders, lean abdomen and hips working in tandem to bring both parties to a new height of pleasure. His stamina is another thing to marvel at – once, he’d ridden someone for half an hour straight, vehement that the poor man not come until he said he could. Till this day, that video remains one of his best-sellers.

Usually, Sehun loses his partners to the pleasure of it. They’d sprawl out limply on whatever surface they’re against, mouth slack as they garble nonsense, sweat glimmering on their skin. So to say that he’s not used to an actively participating partner is an understatement.

Jongin meets every roll of his hips with a languid thrust, their faces close enough for Sehun to feel every puff of air against his lips.

“God,” Jongin moans, pulling Sehun flush against his chest.

“You’re fucking sweaty,” Sehun mutters, but he tangles fingers into Jongin’s hair and leans in, sucking Jongin’s bottom lip into his mouth.

“You’re the sweaty one,” Jongin counters, letting Sehun kiss the soul out of him. He slips a finger between Sehun’s asscheeks and presses right where they’re joined – it wrings a keen out of the man, and Sehun shakes so violently in Jongin’s hold when his orgasm rips out of him that everyone behind the cameras simultaneously hold their breaths.

“Shit,” Sehun gasps, spent cock twitching with oversensitivity as it keeps rubbing up against Jongin’s abdomen with every rock of his hips.

“Mm,” Jongin breathes against Sehun’s skin. “Fuck knows what you’re doing to me.”

A few firm snaps of his hips up into Sehun’s tightness has him coming, hot and throbbing, the sensation coaxing another whimper out from between Sehun’s lips. As he comes down from his high, Jongin slumps back against the couch and pulls Sehun down with him. There, they lie in a mess of sweaty limbs and heaving chests, Sehun’s hair in Jongin’s mouth and a mess between their stomachs. Neither one seems willing to move.

“Jesus,” Junmyeon mumbles, sounding faint. “That’s a wrap.”

Yixing doesn’t register the command until minutes later; red-faced, he scrambles to turn his camera off.

 

 

 

  
He’s just stepping out of the bathroom when the door to his dressing room flies open and someone barges in. Sehun nearly drops his towel in shock, hair plastered to his face when he whips around and opens his mouth to yell at the intruder about privacy. But when he sees it’s Jongin, words fail to come out. He stares as Jongin takes another step inside and closes the door behind him, already showered and dressed in another pair of ridiculously tight jeans.

“Do you even know why we hate each other?”

Knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping his towel, Sehun can only shake his head. It’s the truth – he has disliked Jongin since the first day the latter stepped foot into the company, but if anyone were to ask for an _actual_ reason (beyond “he’s an asshole” or “he’s so cocky”, because he's honestly making those up), he wouldn’t be able to provide them with one.

“Right. Don’t you think this is a little ridiculous?”

Sehun shrugs, turning around and letting the towel fall. He pulls on a pair of sweats and glances over his shoulder.

“It is what it is. I doubt we’d become best friends just because we fucked once. Give it an hour or so Kim. Once your dopamine levels even out, you’ll agree with me.”

“You –”

“Hey. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. We don’t really need a reason for that.”

There’s a pause, then footsteps, and finally the opening and slamming of a door. Sehun exhales. He was an asshole there, that he knows, but they already hate each other anyway, right? No harm done.

 

 

 

  
“So,” Jongdae begins conversationally. “The video broke all the records.”

“Great,” Sehun replies. “Glad to hear.” The apathy in his voice is unmistakable.

Jongdae stares at his client. Ugh, he really hates this part.

“Junmyeon’s… wondering if you’d be open to film another? Like a month or two down the road.”

Sehun levels him with an unimpressed look. “Seriously?”

Jongdae can only shrug helplessly.

“Fine,” Sehun sighs. “Whatever.”

“I understand, but – wait, what?”

“I said okay.”

Jongdae really didn’t see that one coming. He’s prepared an argument for every excuse Sehun tends to use, even rehearsed them, but he never thought to prepare for this.

“Oh. Okay, great. I’ll let him know.”

Sehun gives him a half-hearted thumbs up.

This meeting is drastically different to the first one, Jongdae thinks, eyes flicking between Sehun and Jongin. He should’ve expected that, too. They’re both subdued, arms crossed over chests and creases between brows. When he meets Chanyeol’s eyes, they share identical looks of bewilderment.

The new video is a simple one, one without a storyline or a fancy set. It’s meant to tide the fans over until their Christmas Special, a week of over-the-top videos themed Naughty or Nice. The Christmas Special Week always requires a buttload of money, so what better way to rake in the cash than to have their biggest stars film another video together?

“Any questions? Requests?”

Sehun shakes his head just as Jongin lets out a simple, “No.”

“Uh, great! We’ll see you on set tomorrow at three.”

 

 

 

  
Jongin’s standing alone in the middle of the room, painfully aware of all three cameras trained on him as he starts to strip. He’s just gotten his shirt off when the (fake) door opens and Sehun walks in.

They stare at each other, unmoving, for the longest time. Jongin is about to call for a reset and ask him what the hell is up when Sehun bolts across the set and slides their lips together, gentle hands bracketing Jongin’s face.

It takes a moment or two, but Jongin gives back as good as he’s got. Winding a solid arm around a lithe waist, he pulls Sehun along with him until the back of his knees hit the bed. Their kisses turn messy, a slick slide of lips, tongue, and teeth, and Jongin is getting high on it.

“Take it off,” he utters into Sehun’s mouth, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

“Rip it off,” Sehun says instead, apparently unwilling to part for more than a few words. So Jongin does, pulling on the panels until he hears a string of buttons pop off. Somewhere, Minseok is crying – damn these stupid porn actors ruining his stupid props.

Still kissing, they fall back onto the bed, Sehun immediately settling over Jongin’s hips.

“My way this time,” Jongin says. He licks into Sehun’s mouth and turns them around, fitting perfectly into the cradle of Sehun’s legs. An ankle loops around the back of his, sliding up his calf to rest against the dip behind his knee.

When they part for air, Jongin rests their foreheads together and stares down at Sehun’s incredibly swollen lips.

“What are we doing?” He whispers.

“Filming,” Sehun replies just as quietly.

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Shut the fuck up. Get on with it.”

Jongin swallows and leans up, snaking a hand between them to unbutton their jeans. He kicks his own off, and while Sehun doesn’t meet his gaze, he does lift his hips up to allow Jongin to rid him of the rest of his clothing. He’s half-hard, something Jongin aims to change in the next few minutes.

“What do you want?” He asks, a little louder this time.

Sehun’s eyes are trained on his fingers, hovering centimetres away from the curve of his dick. He licks his lips, and Jongin can’t help but follow the movement.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeats.

“I don’t fucking know, alright?” Sehun snaps, “just do something.”

Frustrated with everything, Jongin slithers down Sehun’s body and takes his cock into his mouth. Sehun’s back arches right off the bed and his fingers scrabble at the sheets as pleasure slams into his gut with an iron fist.

Jongin is relentless, pulling out all his tricks for this one blowjob. The suction is heavenly, tongue a perfect tease around the slit and against the frenulum. Sehun digs his heels into the mattress and barks out a tight warning before he spills down Jongin’s throat.

“Is that what you wanted,” Jongin rasps, letting Sehun slip out of his mouth. The man’s cheeks are flushed, pupils blown and lips chewed red.

“Stop,” he pants. “Stop asking me that. Just –”

“What,” Jongin says, getting back to his feet. “Tell me.”

“ _Just fuck me_!” Sehun all but roars.

All metaphorical strings snap with those three words, sending Jongin digging into the drawer for lube and condoms. It’s a quick prep, lubed fingers stretching Sehun out just enough for Jongin’s cock. Then Jongin’s driving in home.

Sehun’s legs wind tight around his waist, holding him close enough to feel… everything. He presses his forehead to Jongin’s shoulder and digs dents into the flesh of his back as they rock together, each push of Jongin’s hips drawing moans out of them both.

“Faster, please, faster – oh fuck-k!”

Jongin’s climax triggers another one for Sehun, and Jongin can’t help but give him another love bite just below the ear.

“Don’t,” Sehun mumbles, turning to brush their lips together. “Don’t ask me that again.”

They lie there for another minute or two until Junmyeon calls cut, then Sehun’s squirming out from under Jongin and accepting the robe handed to him by Jongdae. Jongin watches, feeling a mixture of incredulity, disbelief and unexplained anger, as Sehun walks away without a single glance back.

 

 

 

  
There is a problem and Sehun doesn’t know how to deal with it. As if that isn’t bad enough, there’s another problem: he _hates_ not knowing how to get rid of a problem.

“Okay, please tell me what’s wrong,” Jongdae demands, dropping a bottle of water into the holder on the treadmill. Sehun’s been running for an hour straight – which is a miracle, considering the fact that the man hates cardio and only does it when he needs a nonverbal way to vent.

“Nothing,” Sehun huffs, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Seriously.”

“You know, if this was my first week as your manager, I would probably let it go. But this is my fourth year, and I have also taken on the responsibility of being your friend, so you and I both know that that’s not going to happen.”

Sehun sighs and jabs the _Cool Down_ button. As the treadmill slows, he takes a gulp of water and turns to study his friend.

“I’m confused,” he finally says. “About things.”

“Ah,” Jongdae says carefully.

“You sound like you have more you want to say,” Sehun frowns. “So spill.”

“Is… Is this about Jongin?”

“Excuse me?”

Jongdae clicks his tongue. “Dude, after that first video you guys filmed together, you’ve been all… weird. Don’t get me wrong, the hostility is still present, but it’s as if you’re not quite sure where to direct it. It seems as though you’re more pissed at yourself rather than at him, nowadays. And that second video? Man, I didn’t know how to feel, watching the two of you.”

Sehun stops the treadmill altogether and stares down at the numbers on the display.

“Why do you guys hate each other again?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Jongdae reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “I dunno, maybe you should.”

 

 

 

  
That goddamn question. _Why do we hate each other?_

If only there was a fucking answer to that, then he wouldn’t be feeling like he’s constantly trying to keep his head above water. It’s hard to focus on filming, especially when he finds himself back on the same set he’d used for his second video with Jongin just a few weeks after.

He comes with Jongin’s name lodged near the back of his tongue, and he’s so _angry_ about it that afterwards, he storms right out of the building and heads straight home.

Halfway into his second gin and tonic, someone knocks on his door. As he strides over, Sehun passes the clock resting on the counter. It reads twenty-six minutes to midnight.

The lock clicks loudly. “Jongdae, I’m not –”

He blinks. That’s not Jongdae standing outside his door.

“How do you know where I live? And what are you doing here?”

“Chanyeol got your address from Jongdae. And I’m here because I heard about what happened today.”

Sehun turns on his heel and heads back into his apartment, grabbing his drink off the counter as he does so.

“Nothing happened today.”

He hears the door shut.

“ _Something_ happened today,” Jongin corrects, “and I’m part of it, aren’t I?”

The bottom of Sehun’s glass hits the table, now empty.

“How many times do I have to say that I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Not wanting to doesn’t mean not needing to.”

Oh, Sehun could really wrangle Jongin’s neck right now.

“If you want me to continue hating you,” Jongin says, the words cutting into the rage currently threatening to paint Sehun’s brain black, “then give me a reason to.”

The fight drains right out of him – Sehun can envision it flowing into the gutter.

“I want a reason,” Sehun says. He leans back and stares at the TV screen. “God knows I do. But I don’t want to find a reason.”

“So what does this mean?”

The heels of his hands provide much-needed pressure against the throbbing behind his eyes. He can sense Jongin’s overwhelming presence behind him and it is setting every single nerve in his body on fire.

“Fuck if I know.”

After some time, Jongin migrates to the other end of the couch. They sit in silence until exhaustion and the alcohol takes over, at which point Sehun rises to his feet, disappears into his bedroom, and brings out a spare pillow.

“You can sleep here if you want,” he mutters. Jongin looks up at him, expression unreadable, and Sehun really can’t take it anymore.

He escapes into his bedroom and tries to find sleep. It doesn’t come to him for hours.

 

 

 

  
“As you all know, our Christmas Special Week begins in ten days. We’ll be going ahead with the poll, drawing from our batch of top 20 pairs, and as per usual, the top 7 pairs will –”

“Ah, about that. I have a request from Jongin,” Chanyeol says nervously. “He doesn’t want to be paired up with Sehun in the polls.”

Pens stop clicking, fingers stop tapping, and Chanyeol’s pretty sure people stop breathing.

“He said what?”

“Yeah, uh, he doesn’t think Sehun will be comfortable if they end up needing to film another video together.”

Several pairs of eyes swivel over to Jongdae.

“Whoa whoa _whoa_ ,” he says, holding his hands up. “Sehun never said anything about that. At least not to me.”

He whips out his phone and pulls up his text message window with Sehun.

_Did you say to anyone that you didn’t want to be paired up with Jongin for CSW?_

They didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

_What are you talking about? I’m contractually obligated to be with whoever I’m paired with for things like CSW. Pretty sure you know that._

Jongdae slides the phone across the table right into Chanyeol’s hands and watches as it gets passed on to Junmyeon not a minute later.

“Oh, for god’s sakes. Bring them in,” Junmyeon orders, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

 

 

  
There’s so much yelling. Kyungsoo had long since slinked out of the room, but the rest of them are either too enraptured by the argument playing out in front of them, or they’re simply too scared of getting noticed if they tried to leave.

“I never asked you to speak up on my behalf,” Sehun spits, hands flat on the table’s surface as he leans across. “You’ve made assumptions about me and acted upon them.”

“So you’re telling me you’d be okay with filming another video _and_ dealing with whatever consequences occur after?”

“It’s my _job_ ,” he snarls.

“Was it also your job to hate me?”

Dumbfounded, Seun stares at the other man for what seems like a lifetime.

“Why are you still so hung up over that? Why do you keep pushing? You weren’t exactly a saint to me either, you do know that?”

Jongin chews on the inside of his cheek.

“I know,” he says eventually. “And I regret it.”

“What the fuck does that even mean,” Sehun sighs, dropping back into his seat.

“I want us to… reset.”

 

 

 

  
That’s how Sehun finds himself squashed onto the loveseat in his dressing room with Jongin right next to him, the both of them nursing huge mugs of coffee. He picks at a muffin – it’s well past lunchtime, and neither of them had eaten –, staring fixedly at a spot on the wall across from him.

“Tell me about you,” Jongin says. He takes a sip from his coffee.

“Like?”

Jongin shrugs. “Anything.”

God, Sehun just wants to turn tail and flee.

“I grew up wanting to be a dancer,” he offers reluctantly. “Got into dance school and all. But in my second year I fucked up my knee too much, so I dropped out and started camming.” Pausing, he itches absently at an old scar that runs across his forearm. “That’s where Junmyeon found me.”

“Yeah, I heard about that last part.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Jongin slants his gaze over, contemplative.

“I used to dance too.”

“Oh? Why didn’t you continue?”

“My mother fell ill, and I needed quick money. It’s hard to get jobs as a contemporary dancer, especially if you’re not in a company. Baekhyun suggested I apply for a position here, said that the work paid well and that I could do as few or as many videos as I wanted. Then after a while, I just… stuck with this.”

“You don’t dance anymore?”

“I do, but it’s more of a hobby now.”

Sehun takes a bite of his muffin, not really tasting it, and chases it down with a mouthful of coffee.

“The first time you saw me,” Jongin continues, “what exactly did you think?”

“Nothing bad,” Sehun admits. “Thought you were attractive, in fact.”

It’s amusing, the surprise he senses from the other man.

“I’m not blind,” he says, taking yet another bite. “Look, we don’t get along because we’re too different. We do things differently, we think differently, we –”

“And yet, we both dance.”

 

 

 

  
Jongin isn’t too sure when or why the switch flipped. He doesn’t want to attribute it to the sex – if it were _anyone_ else, he definitely wouldn’t be attributing it to the sex –, but then again, he’s never felt that good with anyone else. He has to agree with Sehun that they’re opposites in many ways, but their physical compatibility is off the charts. How can two people, who so often butt heads, work together so well when it comes to acts of carnality?

Their first video did an amazing job at fucking with his mind. The second one only made it worse. It’s clear that Sehun is just as confused as he is, but it’s not as if either one of them has any idea on what to do about this… cloud that floats over their heads.

Jongin doesn’t even know what exactly it is that he himself wants.

To stop whatever animosity that’s between them? Sure, that’d be nice. Be friends? He wouldn’t be opposed to that. Something… more? _That_ is what drives him absolutely up the wall.

Now, as he watches the little clock on the webpage countdown to 0, he tries to push the jittery feeling in his gut away. Filming another video with Sehun – let’s face it, they’ll definitely be in the Top 7 – both terrifies and excites him, and he doesn’t know if he wants to deal with that.

The polling period ends. Jongin sighs and refreshes the page.

Ranked in the top spot? Kim Jongin and Oh Sehun.

 

 

 

  
“Hey.”

Jongin looks up from where he’s fixing the collar of his shirt and looks into the mirror to see Sehun standing behind him. They’re already on set – in the mock living room, there’s a real fireplace roaring in the background, a large armchair in a corner, a pile of cushions strewn across the floor, and a beautiful plush rug.

“Hey,” he replies, unable to stop himself from letting his eyes run down the other’s body. Sehun’s a literal present, from a pair of crimson fishnets to a red silk thong and to an equally red corset, all tied off with a bow around his neck. God, all that smooth skin on show.

“You ready? They want us on set.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a second.”

Sehun walks away with a nod, and Jongin nearly gives himself an aneurysm when he watches the sway of the man’s hips. Clearing his throat, Jongin takes one last look at himself in the mirror and hurries over.

“Ready? Dim the lights, please! Yixing?”

“Good to go.”

“Action!”

 

 

 

  
He’s got a lapful of Sehun, the latter’s warm hands slipping buttons out of their holes as fire crackles in the background. Jongin plays with the strings of the fishnets, plucking at them as if they were harp strings.

A little hum against his lips – ah, Sehun must like it when he thumbs at the curve of his ass all the way down to the crease of his thigh. He kisses him a little deeper, lets Sehun press him further back into the upholstery of the armchair, and sighs into the kiss.

“What do you like,” Sehun queries, pulling back to nose along the curve of his jaw.

“Anything,” Jongin answers automatically. “Everything.”

A suck to his pulse point, fingers tugging at his shirt. Hands guiding his up to a cinched waist, to the ribbons holding the corset together. Bare chests brushed up against the other, thumbs flicking at nipples, fingers playing along the keys of rib cages. The hard ridge of an erection dragging along a thigh.

“You know what I’ve never experienced?”

“Hmm?” Jongin lifts Sehun bodily off his lap, a hand around his waist and an arm beneath his ass, and walks them over to the pile of cushions.

“I’ve never lost myself in sex,” Sehun says. “I want to lose myself.”

“I can try to help you with that.”

This time, when their mouths meet, it’s nothing short of perfection.

 

 

 

  
The air around them is thick with desire, with words unsaid, with unresolved emotion. It’s also filled with the sounds of sex, whimpers and moans and cries to deities.

“Sehun, oh fuck –”

Sehun screws his eyes shut and fits his face into the crook of Jongin’s neck, focusing on the man’s weight on his frame, the way clever hands roam all over his body as if on a mission to memorise every single detail, the apparent hunger with which Jongin claims him over and over again.

“Ask me,” he blurts, lips brushing the curve of Jongin’s ear.

Jongin catches on right away.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want to start over. I want –” He chokes out a moan, “to one day hear you call me yours.”

Jongin’s hips falter, and Sehun finds his face cradled between trembling hands. He’s staring up into dark chocolate eyes, firelight flickering across those dilated pupils.

“I can work on that.”

“I don’t want to keep calling you an asshole,” he mumbles. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you still are, but –”

“I can help you with that, too.”

Sehun snorts out a laugh and turns them over, letting Jongin lace their fingers together as he rocks his hips, taking him impossibly deeper. He chases his high, albeit a little embarrassed at the constant slapping of his cock against Jongin’s stomach whenever he rises and drops back down. The mics are sure to pick that up, but it’s alright, as such noises will only bring pleasure to their viewers.

“This might be my most memorable Christmas yet,” Jongin quips, lifting their joined hands to flick at the bow still around Sehun’s neck. “You’re definitely the most unforgettable present I’ve ever gotten.”

“Unwrapping it before Christmas, huh?”

“Couldn’t help myself,” Jongin shrugs, and Sehun promptly wipes the smirk off his face with a well-executed roll of his hips.

When he orgasms, Sehun shuts his eyes and hones in on the feeling of Jongin inside him and all around him. He loses himself in it.

 

 

 

  
“I think I need a raise,” Jongdae laments, face burning at the scene in front of him.

A few feet away, Chanyeol echoes his words.

Surprisingly, Junmyeon says, “I’ll give everyone here a raise. Having to deal with these two for all these years? God knows you all deserve one.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's not explicitly stated that they end up together and deeply in love, but it's very much the implication. 
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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